Off-Script
by CalebthePianist
Summary: Ever since the age of 9 years old, you always knew that you were special. You could REMEMBER. An OC story: A determination soul can remember the Resets during Flowey's time, and he's really not happy about it. He's getting really annoyed about it, and his life has turned to insanity. But before he can do anything about it, he has to die. Rated T for suicide, insanity, and violence.
1. Prologue Part One: Special

**A/N: Hey guys, how are you? I have a different kind of story for you today! This is the first part of the prologue. The prologue might last 2 or 3 more chapters after this, but it's important for character development and setting up. Don't worry, we'll get to the Undertale part soon enough! If the first person "you" perspective gets repetitive and starts bothering you, then don't worry; it will be gone after the prologue. Leave a follow/favorite if you enjoyed, and don't forget to review!**

 **Prologue Part 1: "Special"**

You always knew you different, ever since you were little. It started when you were around the age of nine, almost ten.

You had a special power.

Your friends and family thought otherwise, and tried as many forms of counseling, therapy, and hypnosis they could on you. However, no amount of convincing could change your "condition".

You could remember.

At first you thought they were dreams, ones you just happened to always remember, always about real events. That was normal enough, but it didn't explain how you had them in the middle of the day all of the time. You would often "wake up" fully aware of your surroundings, possibly while you were in the middle of doing something active. Then you supposed they were prophecies, visions of the future. That had to be it. Whatever happened in your dreams would always happen again in real life. You actually saved a dog from being hit by a car that sped a corner, based on what you saw in a dream. But something still didn't make sense. You would sometimes wake up, and go through the day, and then...wake up, again, in the same place as before. You thought you almost had it figured out.

But then, when you were eleven, came the blinding flash of light, the intense ringing in your ears. When it stopped,

you were 9 years old again.

You were confused at first, of course. Was this just another, incredibly intricate dream? You were just going to forget this whole thing soon, right?

But you remembered it all so vividly.

You remembered every vacation, every teacher, every friend, every math unit, every haircut, every new fact you learned.

You remembered everything.

Your life continued the same exact path as it did in your dream, but with your added knowledge, you were able to skip a grade. You still had "visions of the future", but you knew they were something different. You just didn't know WHAT. And then, when you were 11 again, it restarted for the second time.

You were nine again. And you knew something was terribly wrong.

By this time, you had stopped telling people about what you saw. You somehow convinced your parents to let you skip two grades of schooling, but it lead your parents and family to call you the household genius, which really hindered your plans. You needed time to think!

You were often met with strange looks from people in the school, and they mostly left you alone. You were glad that you had plenty of alone time, and you spent countless recesses in the school library, studying as much as you could. You began to be hopeful in this new sort of life. Being smart for your age, maybe get just enough fame, live a good life. You thought that this could be fine, you could manage to live like this...

Until you turned 11 and everything started over again.

Convincing your parents that you needed to skip three grades would prove to be close to impossible, but it worked. There was an entire school newspaper article about it, and your family praised you daily. But it came easy for you, since you had more than two extra years that no one else had. You had even more alone time, since you kind of had a half year extra of schooling every time your life restarted. You studied, and then you knew the answer to your predicament. It was like a reset of the world, that only you remembered. Every time it reset, everybody else in the previous times would no longer exist. They would only exist in the now, but you didn't know when the world would reset again. You just had to live, seeing what would happen every day: how many times the world would go back a few hours, or sometimes even a few days. The second longest period that restarted was about three months. It was like someone was trying to make long term plans, and failed, bringing you (and them) back in time a period of several days on average. But you had to live with it. You couldn't live any other way.

And then, like a tradition, when you were eleven, the flash of light and the ringing returned. The clock went over a year back and you woke up in the same place again. Skipping four grades would be preposterous, you already knew. So you needed a plan, one that would work to be able to convince everyone that you were a genius. So you did the classic brain scrambling trick-you fell on your head. You acted like a nine-year-old until you did so, making sure several people saw it. Then, you used your vocabulary from your almost 5-year older (if you counted each reset of the world, no matter how small) self, and everybody was shocked. You convinced them to do some knowledge tests, and then came the media. Throughout the next few weeks, you were on several local news stations, and even a talk show one time. People always wanted to ask you math questions or how to spell words that weren't even that hard. You had a preposterous amount of knowledge for your age, and some people suggested home-schooling, so that you wouldn't be in high school at age ten or eleven. You thought it was a wonderful idea, so you went along with it. You even opened an email account so people would stop calling your family's home phone, but you weren't focused on that.

You needed to find a cure for your condition. Eventually, by searching dark corners of the internet, you found a sort of witch doctor that specialized in souls and magic. Finding the address, your parents thought you were genius enough to take care of yourself, so you rode the bus to the outskirts of town, close to the forest. A small medical-type building stood there, looking run down, but homely nonetheless. The witch doctor welcomed you inside, and you sat down on a bed.

You asked her if you needed to pay anything, since the information you had wasn't clear, but she said it was free...for you. You asked her what she meant by that, and she told you to relax and not freak out. She reached toward your chest, and pulled. You felt something there, trying to stay, but you let it escape, whatever it was. Then, the feeling faded and you were left staring at a small, red heart about the size of your fist. The witch doctor said that it was your soul. Since it was red, it was very rare, she explained. This only happened a few times a decade around the world, and she considered herself lucky to ever see one in her lifetime.

You were still in shock by the fact that your soul was so weak, so fragile, but so...magic. Maybe because this was so rare, the only other person in the world to have this "determination" soul, as she called it, was the one changing the world.

Knowing this fact, over the next year or so, you tried everyday to start over the world. A few times, you thought that you had done it, but it turned out to be a coincidence each time.

And then came the reset, earlier than ever. You weren't even eleven when it happened this time, setting you back to age nine. The first few weeks went the same way as the last time, you "accidentally" making yourself into a genius, the media, the homeschool, and the email system. But then, one day, when you had been nine again for only a few months, your life became a living nightmare...

Eventually, you would come to call it Groundhog Day, or the Infinite Thursday.

 **A/N: So there you have it! You can tell how this fits into Undertale, right?**

 **If you don't, then maybe you should replay the game.**

 **Anyways, I'll see you guys later (not actually next week because I'm on vacation but the next week)! Bye!**


	2. Prologue Part Two: Infinite Thursday

**A/N: HELP IM OFF SCHEDULE OF ALL MY STUFF AAAA FAVORITE FOLLOW AND REVIEW OR WHATEVER I HAVE TO HURRY AAAA**

 **Disclaimer: These ideas come from Undertale, which belongs to Toby Fox.**

 **Warning: Contains insanity, murder, self-harm, and suicide.**

 **Prologue Part 2: Infinite Thursday**

 _Please help me. I'm going insane. Somebody please help me! I don't want to do terrible things. I do want to do them! I do but I don't! I...I...I..._

 _Ehehehehehehe...hehehehehe._

 _I feel strange..._

You were having a normal day. Wait, scratch that. You had never had a normal day. You were having a terrible day. But you were always having a terrible day. So it was a normal day in comparison to any other days you had ever had in the last...well, the last 6 years from your perspective. Then came the "Restart Party". Ironically, it happened to you when you were _at_ a party. The world was so cruel, ruining the only good times you could get. This particular party was for landing your first talk show. You remembered this celebration from the last "loop", as you called it, but you didn't really mind too much. A party was a party, right?

But this one wouldn't end for a very long time. And many terrible things would happen in that time. Things that nobody would remember...

But before that, you had to get mad.

The first reset ruined your cake. It was time to open some presents, and you closed your eyes for a second, which was when it changed. Since you were sitting in the same place, you didn't even realize the change until your hands reached for presents and ended up with slime on your fingers. Everyone was shocked, including you, but you all just laughed it off and people teased you for a few minutes, wondering why you were so eager to eat cake. Of course you laughed and chuckled, being the 9 year old going on 17, but you were very annoyed internally. Why was this unknown power so cruel?

Right as you were thinking that, the world looped back to the same time again.

 _Oh,_ you thought. _Maybe it's going to be nice today._

 **How wrong you were.**

You got back to opening presents, until the world reset. This time, you cake was ruined on purpose, being smashed by your face. It was more like a sigh into the drop, and everybody was shocked. You angrily sighed, but the partygoers mistook your sigh as being angry for ruining the cake. It was an understandable reason, but you didn't want their input. The mood was ruined for tens of minutes. But then you got to opening the presents again.

"All right, time to loop back again," you announced into the sky to whoever cruel person was listening. But while everyone looked at you, confused, nothing happened. Maybe this time it would be different?

Meanwhile, the mood was really awkward. You decided to just get to the presents now. But only after the first item was revealed, the world reset one more time. Growling, you grabbed the cake and threw it against the wall. Icing covered the light switch, and someone licked it off of the smooth surface.

"Quite good," they announced. "...What, too weird?" Everyone laughed, and your parents took you aside.

A chorus of synced "What was that?" "Why are you angry?" "You have so much!" and "You should know better!" attacked you, but you got through it with your amazing people skills. You knew how your parents would act by now. They were always the same, spouting the exact same lines over and over again. You were done with them, besides for using them. Why need someone that will just pamper you, when you're basically old enough to drive, almost an adult in knowledge?

Downstairs, a slip and a toss had already led to a cake-only food fight. Every single reporter, businessman, and politician was coated with icing. Someone had even found the reserve cake and some more melted icing. And those cakes weren't small.

Groaning inwardly, you announced your arrival back to the party with pompous style and flair, even adding a spin after you reached the floor. But the floor wasn't clean. It was still covered in cake. Slipping on the slick surface, you landed with your head on the ground with a bang. Everyone gasped, tossing out "Are you okay?" all over the place. You said, "Isn't 12 times 12 132?" Suddenly, you bursted out laughing, reigniting the mood to joy.

Sadly, this was the most fun you were having in years.

What good times they would be.

Time after time again, the world restarted. The furthest you ever got was opening all of your presents, which was only 2 hours away. Your mind was tired of cake. You didn't even want to see it anymore. Every time, you threw it off of the table, away from you. You tossed disgust everywhere, not caring about your gifts, even breaking some, and one time making everybody so uncomfortable that they left your house entirely. You started to make it into a contest. Could you eventually hit everyone with the cake? How many gifts could you break? How fast could you make them leave? How far could you hoist the cake? What could you do?

What could you do?

Loop number one hundred sixty-six.

Your parents asked you if you were okay. They said that they would understand. You promptly got angry and got the knife that was ready to cut the cake, and stabbed said cake. The world instantly reset again. Not even your anger meant anything. You were done.

After returning to your cake for the 167th time, anger flaring across your profile, you couldn't take it anymore. You couldn't take anything anymore. So you reached for the knife, and cut the cake, calmly but angrily. The cake was cut nicely. Then, elevating your face to a straight look, you continued your cutting

on your wrist.

After the first three slices, alarmed looks shot across the gathered crowd, and started grabbing at the knife, or you, after three more. However, you held the knife out, in front of you, threatening anyone trying to stop you. Screams rang out. Your parents tried to approach you, but you would have none of it. You didn't care about them anymore. You didn't need them. They didn't need you, either. They didn't deserve you.

You kept cutting deeper, the pain barely mattering to you. Why live in Hell if you can die in Hell, and go to a different Hell? At least it wouldn't repeat like today. The pain was almost not there at this point. The entire time, you glared at them.

Your parents.

"You don't need to do this!"

"You have so much!"

"We care about you!"

"Tell me what it is; I can help you!"

That last one really got to you. You cut furiously faster before stopping. Blood oozed out of your scarred wrist, bone showing at this point. The pain didn't even bother you. It was nothing compared to the misery you had been going through up until this point in your memories.

"No you can't!" You put the knife down.

"Nobody can help me!" You picked it back up.

"NOBODY UNDERSTANDS!" You threw the knife, the steak-use blade twirling across the room. The point headed for the door. It was like magic, you felt so alive watching the knife spin through the air. Then the door opened

and the police walked in

and the knife flew

and the point

hit the woman officer

in the chest

and she fell backwards,

dead.

Blood flowed out of the open wound, her heart hit directly. All of the people on the scene latch onto the sight...and then they look at you. Blood covered your wrist, and you looked your parents in the eyes

and smiled.

"I hate you," you said with a grin on your face. And then you turned and walked away.

"Fr-Freeze!" The next officer yelled, freezing a little himself; you knew he didn't want to hurt you, you **being only nine**. You waved, feeling dizzy...

And the world faded back to the cake.

As soon as everything restarted, you growled deep in your throat with anger and absolute seething hatred. Everyone turned to look at you. Perfect. Now they would finally learn what they needed to.

You grabbed the knife from its now familiar spot on the table.

You turned the blade point inwards.

With full force and intent, you plunged it into your heart.

You died in seconds.

Screams echoed throughout the kitchen. Sobs erupted from family members. Ambulances were called. It was too late. The world didn't reset, and you were buried the next day. Nobody visited your grave, for fear of "catching madness". You were called The Mad Genius, and you became an instant scary story.

The people who were there said you died smiling, grinning from ear to ear.

Everybody, including your own family, admitted that you were insane. They weren't all wrong.

But you knew nothing of this.

Because you were dead.

In the blackness, there was you. And there was nothing.

You thought: Was this Hell?

...You know, it wasn't half bad compared to life.

It was quiet, calm, dark. Hell: it was even relaxing.

You laughed in the darkness.

You floated for hours, days, nobody knew. You slept a lot.

And then the world went back to the cake.

You excused yourself and quickly tromped to your room. On the way up, you turned the music volume a bit higher, telling everyone to just dance. Once you got to your room. You punched the window, embedding glass shards into your hand. You didn't care. You had already died before. YOU HAD DIED. You had seen ACTUAL HELL and come back to tell the tale. But you didn't want to come back. You had deserved to die. So you stuck your head out the shattered window, and screamed.

"WHYYY! WHY ME! WHY DOES THIS HAPPEN TO ONLY ME!" Your voice became hoarse. "WHY!" You started crying. "Why..."

You collapsed into a deep, much-needed sleep.

When you woke up...you remembered your dream. But this time it was different. You remembered it...several times. More than once. More than twice.

You remembered the same small dream in so much detail-

- _ **more than**_ _**thousands upon thousands of times.**_

 _ **It took up about a quarter of your existing memory.**_

 _ **What was the power doing?**_

 _ **What was going on?**_

You tried desperately to remember something before that, and it came flooding back.

Then came the memory. The blood, the police, the knife, the murder, the screams.

What had you done?

You didn't want to kill them, you wanted to die yourself, you did die!

Conflicting thoughts ran against each other. Voices invaded your conscious.

 _Do it._

 _No!_

 _Yes, ahahaha!_

 _Murder is so not good!_

 _But otherwise it's so boring..._

 _Yeah..._

 _Please help me. I'm going insane. Somebody please help me! I don't want to do terrible things. I do want to do them! I do but I don't! I...I...I..._

 _Just give in. It won't hurt! They'll be fine in a few hours!_

 _But...they'll feel betrayed!_

 _ **Did you really care about them?**_

 _I guess...no._

 _Then just get rid of them. They're useless to everyone!_

 _Yeah! Just kill them..._

 _That's more like it._

 _Yeah, ahaha. This'll be fun!_

 _Wow, this feels weird..._

 _Ehehehehehehe...hehehehehe._

 _I feel strange..._

 _ **It's time.**_

 **A/N: ... only 2 more prologue chapters. It's not really prologue, but...it's not the Undertale characters yet, so I'm calling it that. Schedule will be back next week.**


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